


The Fear Of Breaking Down

by sa00harine



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Five's considerate and a smartass, Five's so called "personal training", Good Brother Klaus Hargreeves, Good Brother Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, angsty, if you read this as incest I'll bite you, in summary, kinda fluffy if you squint, klaus has big heart energy, no beta we die like men, reginald hargreeves can suck my ass, this is sad and i'm not sorry, vanya wants to help but she's afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sa00harine/pseuds/sa00harine
Summary: Once Klaus had lost himself, Five had given himself away on a silver platter. He talked back to Reginald on a daily basis and he pushed ever so slightly back to the rules that had been restraining them all. He did this so that the others didn’t have to.





	The Fear Of Breaking Down

**Author's Note:**

> I'm completely enraptured and in love with Umbrella Academy, so here's this angsty ficlet of some of the shit the academy kids went through!  
> Please yell at me for it!

 

Besides Klaus, Five ranked himself as probably the second most difficult child. He didn’t bother with getting high because he failed to see the point of it, but he did mouth-off whenever he could and he definitely corrected his father when he was wrong. Which, for a man as aged and crazed as Reginald Hargreeves, was fairly often. 

The punishments Reginald dished out weren’t only extra chores- the typical laundry, dishes, cleaning, and cooking, which they were usually expected to do anyway- but also increased hours on what he preferred to call “personal training.” 

Five liked to call it “total bullshit.” 

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the training did serve to amplify their abilities, but it also served as complete and utter torture. There wasn’t a single night gone by since Klaus’ first experience with personal training that he hadn’t been sleepless and screaming. Whatever Reginald did was probably the reason said brother was on the streets, high and drunk and neurotic, more often than he was ever home these days. 

Five didn’t want to end up like that. He couldn’t stand the thought of not having control of his body and mind. It terrified him, but it excited Klaus, which was where the two were different. Five also didn’t want the rest of his siblings to turn to other self-harming methods. So, he beat them all to the opportunity. Once Klaus had lost himself, Five had given himself away on a silver platter. He talked back to Reginald on a daily basis and he pushed ever so slightly back to the rules that had been restraining them all. He did this so that the others didn’t have to. 

When all Reginald could concern himself with was Five’s own punishments, the others were free to act out without the same consequences. 

And that is how Five wound up, slack and shivering on the floor of their dedicated training room under Reginald’s unsatisfied gaze. 

For the past four hours, Five had been jumping from corner to corner of the room without a break. He was too prideful to show how heavy he was breathing, and far too stubborn to report his dizziness, so he kept on jumping. The vivid, nauseating passage of time and spacial transportation had surely messed with his body, but he was unconcerned as he summoned enough strength to roll over onto his back. At least this wasn’t Diego throwing knives near Grace, who was tied up and surrounded by moving targets. It wasn’t Klaus shrieking loudly enough for everyone to hear him and wonder where he was when he came back after four days, droopy and haunted and eerily quiet. It wasn’t Allison crying after she’d rumored an unsuspecting pizza delivery man to bite off his own finger. It wasn’t Luther holding weights above his head for hours on end while Reginald held a gun to his head. It was Five, exhausted but not defeated. 

He would have jumped when he saw Reginald towering above him, but he didn’t have the energy, so the room jumped for him. As immature as it was, something in him wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh hard enough until his head burst. This entire thing, Reginald’s scheme, was so outrageously stupid. Relying on kids, who weren’t even intended to be born, to save the world from an apocalypse that might not even come? Ridiculous. 

Reginald jabs him in the ribs with his cane, and his stomach starts churning. Oh crap, he’d said that out loud, hadn’t he? 

“Number Five, you’ve tampered your progress with your juvenile behavior. Forty more jumps, each corner. Now.” 

He holds back a deliberated shout of  _ are you kidding me  _ and gets to his feet. His legs shake. 

“You will start when I tell you.” 

Five resists letting his shoulders slump, and straightens until his entire body screams protests and tiny black dots dance across his vision. 

“Go!” Reginald’s voice is harsh, and it spirals Five into the same repeated motions of the past hours. He does so mindlessly, and finds himself on the other side of the room, winded. 

He looks at the handles on the wall, for pull-ups, and wants to grab onto them. Maybe he’ll hang for a little while.

“You skipped a corner, Number Five. Do so again and we will be here past dinner. Thirty-nine more jumps,” Reginald trails on. “And don’t go on autopilot. If you do so during a mission, the consequences will be dire. You know that.” 

Five jumps again, seeing the blue lights fizz out of his fists in sad sparks. But he manages to get to the other side of the room, all the while stopping briefly at each corner. His head throbs dully. Thirty-eight. 

He does it again. And again. At least ten more times whisk by before he feels like his bones have been crushed and his brain has started to melt. The headache and full-blown muscle-ache has risen until Five’s hands tremble so hard that he’s not sure he can even muster another jump. 

He tries, and though the tug of the space between space pulls at him, it wasn’t pulling strong enough. Five plummets, mid-air, and hits the ground. 

For a long second, he doesn’t move. He wonders if the spasms in his chest are anything like Ben’s when the monster gets angry. The pain in his head doesn’t register to him anymore. He just feels heavy and awfully light all at once. 

Distant  _ tsk’s  _ emit from above him as Reginald speaks, the sound thrumming around and through his ears with a sharp ringing quality that makes Five whimper. “You still have twenty-two more jumps to finish. Get up.” 

Reginald prods him with that damn cane again, this time at his sides. Five thinks that he’s standing, but it was just him  _ imagining  _ himself standing. His muscles seize. 

The next thing he knows, he’s dry-heaving on the floors and his head is splitting. Between Reginald's muffled curses and Grace’s soft murmuring, he can hear his own chest convulse and his breath staggering. 

God, he’s gonna die. He’s going to die at his father’s hand all for sneaking out of his room to get a glass of water. 

 

But he doesn’t die. 

Or at least, maybe he’s just in Purgatory. 

If Purgatory is a dark room with his hands fastened behind his back with a rope and what feels like duct tape sealing his mouth shut. 

Five doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he does know that he likely blacked out. His headache and his pungent nausea haven’t left, though. It couldn’t have been long. A few hours, give or take. 

Oh, he’s definitely missed dinner. 

Then it all clicks. His father did this to him. He’s tied up, muted, and shut away like an old piece of furniture. This violates the official unofficial How To Treat A Child handbook in at least a thousand different ways. Five’s a hostage in his own home. 

He screams. His lips are dry around the suffocating stickiness of the tape and it only makes him gag around it more. He can’t hear his own screams but he can hear his heart beating. 

_ Please, please, please, please. Anyone, open the door! OPEN THE DOOR! _ __  
  


“Hello?” The voice is hesitant, hardly above a whisper. Vanya. It’s Vanya. 

_ OPEN THE DOOR OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE VANYA OPEN THE  _

“Oh, sorry dad. I thought I heard something.” Retreating footsteps.

Hot tears trail down his face. What did he do to deserve this because it certainly wasn’t trying to get a drink. He goes silent, not seeing a reason to waste his voice when there isn’t any reason to. His head falls back and hits the wall. 

 

“Number Five. That response to simple training was an overdramatic show of weakness. I intend not to see it from you again. Prove to me that you’re sufficient with your powers. Jump out of this closet, or I’ll leave you here until tomorrow morning.” 

This can’t be happening. Five shakes his head at nothing. He shakes his head until his vision doubles and the light from the doorway splits into two. 

He squeezes his fists, seeing a faint blue glow appear from behind him. For a moment, he feels like it’ll work, but he’s still here and the blue is gone now. 

 

Time passes again, and the light in the hallway was turned off. He doesn’t know how late it was. All Five knew was that his headache had moved to his stomach and his throat was dry and burning. 

He tried again. No blue. 

He wishes he’d never been born. No blue. 

He closes his eyes until phosphenes mock him. The hallway light turns on. 

Five perks, eyes wide and eyebrows climbing his hairline. He screams, hoping that it isn’t Reginald.  _ HELP HELP PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE  _

He only stops when his lips are sore from scraping against the tape. He waits, shaking.

“... Five?”

Who?

“Dad said you were at training, but you never came for dinner and I got worried. I think you’re in here and I have your plate. It’s your favorite! Meatloaf and mashed potatoes and biscuits. Mom even made desert, those marshmallow and peanut butter sandwiches you invented. They’re terrible, by the way. So, I have all your food. It’s in my room. Can I come in?” 

Klaus! It was Klaus! Nobody else would do that! 

COME IN COME IN PLEASE KLAUS I’M STARVING 

 

He wonders if the many hours he’s been like this are all just one prolonged panic attack. It sure feels like it to him. 

The door opens, and Five cries when he sees his brother, knelt and done with picking the lock. Klaus’ eyes are downcast on him and he looks petrified by what he sees. 

“Oh jeez… let’s see… oh, Dad definitely did this. I’m so sorry Five, oh my god. None of us knew. We just thought-” 

He peels the tape off and all Five can do is sob into his chest, ugly and heaving and  _ loud.  _

Klaus panics. Five can tell by the stiffening of the arms wrapped around him- holding him, basically. Five can’t find it in himself to care about how he looks right now. He’s just thankful that it’s over. 

“Shh, shh. It’s fine. You’re okay. Look! I’m here. And guess what? I’m not high! I think I’m gonna stop doing all of that. I’m gonna try. I know you’d be proud of me. Shh. Quiet. Do you want your dinner?” 

Five nods into Klaus’ shoulder. Klaus reaches around them and unties Five’s wrists. Five can tell they’re probably red and irritated by Klaus’ wince. Five grabs Klaus like the savior he is. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you,” he whispers, voice a mess of cracks and hiccups but it’s clear enough. 

“Let’s go, Five.” 

Klaus helps him stand, dragging Five to his room with Five’s arm slung around his neck. His legs haven’t stopped shaking by the time Klaus gently lets him fall onto the bed. Looking back, he was in one of the closets. The one between Klaus’ room and one of the bathrooms. Nobody used it. Reginald knew that. 

No, he wasn’t going to think about his father. He didn’t care. 

 

Five smiles weakly as Klaus puts the plate on his lap, still just a hint warm, and pulls the blankets over his shoulders. 

“I’ll go get you some water.” Klaus trekked towards the closed door.

“No!” Five makes his face look something sheepish. He doesn’t want Klaus to get caught doing what brought Five here. 

He pats the bed. “Stay here.” 

Klaus does, and they split the cold dinner. Five recounts the day while Klaus offers jokes that make him laugh a little bit. Eventually, the plates are clean, a courtesy of Five’s hunger, and Five is changed into sweatpants and one of Klaus’ oversized shirts. They fall asleep, both refusing to acknowledge the inevitable punishments they’ll face tomorrow. 

For now, it’s Klaus, Five, and the unspoken fear of what comes next. But that’s not important. What matters is that they’re okay. And as long as they continue to stick together, Klaus, Five, and all of the rest of them, it’ll always be okay. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Also, come talk to me! @poetromantics on tumblr! <3


End file.
